


Triangle

by rabidchild67, semperama



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Ass Play, Biting, Complicated Relationships, Love Triangles, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67, https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperama/pseuds/semperama
Summary: Chris has a new man in his life, but he can't seem to put Zach out of his mind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ongoing Round Robin that the two of us are doing! Each chapter is a self-contained ficlet, but they're all part of the same overall narrative. This first chapter was written by Semper, the second by RC, and then so on and so on, back and forth.

“I thought I could trust you.”

Chris tenses all over, his fingers tightening on the phone until it seems it might crack in his grip. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he says. “You’re living with someone else, Zach.”

“That’s not—” Chris can hear Zach huff, and he imagines how angry he must be. In fact, he can picture it vividly, the roiling storm clouds in his eyes, the way his jaw must be clenching with the effort of keeping back all the words that will just make things worse. His anger has always been a sight to behold, and maybe there is a small, scared part of Chris that decided to tell him this over the phone for exactly that reason.

Zach takes a deep breath and starts again. “That’s not the same thing, and you know it. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re—”

“I swear to Christ, Zachary, if you try to feed me some goddamn romantic line right now—”

“You swore to me!” Zach is shouting now, desperate. “You said forever, Chris! You used the fucking word.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong.”

His voice sounds cold to his own ears, but he’s been nursing this bitterness for a long time, letting it grow dark and jagged inside him until he can feel it tearing up his insides, cutting him deeper with each breath. He’s not the guy anymore who laid next to Zach in that bed in Berlin and told him it would always be the two of them against the world, no matter the distance between them, no matter who else came into their lives. He’s not that guy anymore because _Zach’s_ not that guy anymore, whether he’s willing to admit it or not.

There is a tense, heavy silence on the other end of the line. Chris can’t imagine what Zach’s feeling now, but he’s sure it isn’t good. This would all be easier if he could take some measure of pleasure in hurting him.

“Does he make you happy?” Zach says at last, his voice small and pathetic. “Happier than me?”

“He’s here,” Chris sighs, which isn’t really an answer but it’s close enough. “He’s here almost every day. He supports me. He’s good to me.”

Zach doesn’t argue with that. They both know he can’t. That’s why this all so fucking sad. The damage has already been done, and there’s no way Zach can take it back.

And yet still, he asks: “There’s nothing I can do?”

_Leave him. Come back to LA. Turn back time._

Chris squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that are threatening to spill over. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to hold Zach just one more time. He should have held him longer a couple weeks ago, when he was still here. Maybe if he’d asked him to stay then, Zach would have said yes and everything would be different, but it’s too late now. It’s way too late.

“No,” Chris says, and it hurts so bad to say it he’s surprised the word hasn’t cut his mouth—surprised he can’t taste blood. “No, there’s nothing.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Dude, what the hell was that video, man?”

There is silence while Chris waits for an answer. Meanwhile, Max sits frozen at the kitchen island. The last thing he wants is to be present for this conversation, and yet he can’t find it within himself to leave the room. Anyway, Chris is pacing between the dining room and the living room like a jungle cat, cutting off Max’s escape route. His only recourse is the deck and he left his shoes in the bedroom.

“’You Are My Sunshine?’ _That’s_ the song you’re _practicing_?” Chris’s disdain cuts like a hot knife through butter.

Another pause. Max lifts his water glass to drink, but it’s empty. He should fill it. He stays where he is.

“Of course he’s upset, you know what the song’s about.”

He’s not all that upset, at least he doesn’t think he projected anything. Chris can be so sensitive lately, so Max tries not to rock the boat. 

“No, I didn’t. And how the fuck was I supposed to, it’s a stupid song. All I’ve ever heard before is the goddamn chorus. _I know now, though._ ”

Max had had to tell him what it meant. _It’s about a break-up_.

“My lack of knowledge of song lyrics—is that what we’re seriously talking about now? How have I never had you murdered?”

When Chris had broken things off with Zach—after so many starts and stops—Max had convinced himself it was going to stick this time. Chris had even started wearing the pinky ring Max had given him. Chris is staring at it now, standing in the dining room with his fist clenched in front of his chest as Zach speaks on the other end of the call.

“I was being hyperbolic, Jesus fucking Christ, Zachary.” He stalks back into the living room and out of sight. “Just… I thought I was pretty fucking clear last time–” He’s at the far side of the house now where Max can’t hear him. Max relaxes incrementally.  
“I’m sorry about that.”

Max startles and looks up; Chris has reappeared in the doorway, holding his iPhone in two hands. Max hadn’t noticed—how long has be been zoned out?

“That guy really knows how to get under my skin.”

“You’ve known each other a long time,” Max allows.

“Which is why it was so annoying! And he wouldn’t even admit it was a shitty thing to do, just stringing me along with that fucking condescending way he has, GOD!”

“I mean, you let it happen, though. All the time.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t upset… by the video or whatever it was. I didn’t even see it. You were humming the tune and I just mentioned what the lyrics meant.”

“But he was trying to get under my skin—“

“And you let him, Chris. Every time.”

Chris blinks at him, speechless.

“Lookit, I don’t pretend to understand what’s between you and him, and I never said I wanted to get in the middle—“

“You didn't—“

“Let me finish?” Max sighed, gathering his thoughts. “You have strong feelings for each other.”

“Had.”

“ _Have._ If you’d rather be with him, I get it. I just—“ Max swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat. “I don’t want to be the person who gives ultimatums, Chris.”

“But I chose _you_.”

“And I’m not a prize.” He stood. “I love you, Chris, and fuck me for saying it, I knew the price of admission when I signed on. That was probably a mistake—“

“It’s not a mistake.” There are tears in Chris’s eyes as he steps forward, rests his hands on Max’s shoulders. “Max, I love you.” For a shameful moment, Max reminds himself that Chris is an actor. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, to dispel the thought. Chris misinterprets, pulls him closer, slides his arms around him. “I do, I love you.”

It’s an awkward few seconds before Max raises his arms and hugs Chris back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a flashback that takes place before the first chapter.

Max shows up early the day they are supposed to fly back to London, startling Chris in the middle of last-minute packing. “I started the coffee pot,” he says, making Chris jump and whirl around. “And I got you something.”

“I’ll take that key back if you’re going to make a habit of sneaking up on me,” Chris says, but he’s smiling in spite of himself. He drops his shaving kit on the bed next to his suitcase and takes a couple steps forward but doesn’t go in for a kiss. “You already gave me my Christmas present.”

“Oh, did I? Silly me. I guess I’ll just keep this then.”

Max’s arm comes out from where he’s been holding it coyly behind his back, and in the center of his broad palm is a little box. A ring box. Dark velvet, silver hinge. Chris may never be able to forgive himself for his immediate reaction, the way his blood freezes in his veins and his head pounds with the sound of his own heartbeat and his thoughts start racing with questions of how to get out of this and how to let him down easy and how the ever-loving fuck did he possibly give Max the impression that this was okay, they were ready for this.

“Jesus,” Max laughs. “You should see your face right now.”

The laugh helps, but only a little. Chris can’t move—doesn’t even trust himself to blink—as Max steps closer and holds out the box. When Chris doesn’t reach for it, Max grabs his hand and pushes it into his palm.

“You better open it yourself. I’m afraid if I do it, you’ll go catatonic.” He tilts his head to the side, smirking, teasing. “Oh wait. Guess I’m too late.”

Chris snorts, but it’s out of reflex rather than genuine amusement. He’s still too terrified for that. Slowly, he lifts his other hand and flips open the lid…and lets out a relieved huff of breath.

“A pinky ring,” he says.

Max shrugs. “I know you’ve got a collection going already. I saw it and thought of you.”

_I saw it and thought of you_ is such a bald-faced lie that Chris has to look up and throw Max a cut-your-bullshit look. There’s no way Max didn’t go into a jewelry store and look through the cases and pick this out special. It’s beautiful. Elegant. Gold, with a round face inlaid with opal. It fits his taste perfectly, and he is certain, certain, that it means something, and when he looks up, his face must say it, because Max sighs.

“Okay, I was hoping that…well, that you’d wear it.”

“Of course I’ll wear it.” 

“Are you going to make me say it, Chris?” Chris raises his eyebrows because yeah, yeah he is. Max doesn’t sigh, doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t even skip a beat. “I hope you wear it and it’d mean something. To both of us.”

Chris looks down at the ring again and almost has to shut his eyes against the onslaught of emotions. He wants this. He wants so badly to just take the ring out of the box and put it on his finger and appreciate it for the token of affection that it is. He wishes the stinging in his eyes and the lump in his throat were indicators of the love he feels for the man standing in front of them rather than sorrow because, if he takes this, if he puts this ring on, it’s shutting the door on Zach. It means someone else is officially more important.

_You haven’t been the most important thing to him in a long time_ , he reminds himself. _Don’t screw up a good thing_.

“I know we haven’t really put a label on our relationship,” Max says, barreling onward in the face of Chris’s silence, “and I’m not saying we have to do that now either. I’m not saying we have to be exclusive or meet the parents—”

“You’ve met my parents about a hundred times, Max.”

“You know what I mean.” He shifts restlessly, and Chris heart turns over at how vulnerable he looks. “I mean…I mean…things are complicated, I get that, but what you and I have, it’s…it’s real, right?”

Is it? It doesn’t feel like it does with Zach. It’s not all-consuming, not a fire that burns through him fast and hot and more often than not leaves him feeling tender and raw. With Max, it’s more like sitting by a fireplace on a rainy day. It’s warm and it’s safe, and it’s completely unexciting, but…but maybe that’s a good thing. He and Zach have barely spoken since Trek filming ended, and maybe that’s partially because Chris has been so busy with Wonder Woman—not to mention in an inconvenient time zone—but maybe it’s also because they’re both getting tired of hurting all the time. Maybe it’s time for Chris to focus on something solid.

“It’s real,” Chris says hoarsely, without having to think about it. “Of course it’s real.”

“So…you’ll wear it?” Max says. He tentatively reaches for the box, and Chris surrenders it with a nod.

“Yeah,” he says, willing himself to sound sure. “For you. For us.”

He holds out his hand and Max slides the ring on and Chris kisses him, cupping a hand tenderly around his jaw but keeping his eyes open. If he closes them, he’s sure it’s Zach’s face he’ll be seeing. It’s Zach he’ll be wishing for, no matter how much it hurts. But that’ll pass. It has to. He curls his fingers in Max’s t-shirt and kisses him harder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place just before Chapter 1. 
> 
> Did we mention we've been prompting each other? Semper's prompt for me this time was "Territorial Zach."
> 
> Also note the change in rating

_“No.”_

 “No?” Chris freezes. “You want me to stop?”

It takes Max a few seconds to speak, “I don’t wanna…” He shudders a moment, swallows. “I don’t wanna come just yet.”

Chris sits back on his heels, smiles as Max hides his face in the pillow. He’s never been more appealing than this, prone and flushed, hair sticking out in a hundred different directions. Chris wipes his chin with the back of his hand, then rests it on the back of Max’s thigh, an unspoken question in the air.

“I feel like I could come without a hand on me.”

Just like that, Chris is thrown out of the moment. Just like that, he thinks of Zach.

\----

_“Don’t touch yourself. Don’t.” Zach’s voice was soft in Chris’s ear, his warm breath like a caress, but the command was clear. “I wanna make you come just like this.”_

_Chris shivered._

_“Gonna make you come without a hand on you.”_

_The luxe hotel bed was large and sumptuous, but all Chris knew was Zach: his heat, his hands, his presence. Chris lets his head drop back onto Zach’s shoulder, eyes closing. His legs trembled, he felt as taut as violin strings. His voice, when it came, sounded a lot more hopeful than the insouciant air he’d gone for, “You really think you can do it?”_

_Zach flexed the two fingers buried deep inside him and Chris’s dick was instantaneously harder than he thought possible. Chris whimpered._

_“Yeah.” Zach’s voice was deep and rough, strangled and thick with desire. He pressed his lips against Chris’s ear. “I do.”_

\----

Chris shakes his head, trying to dispel the memory. He stretches out beside Max instead, rests a hand between his shoulder blades. He kneads the muscles on the back of Max’s neck a moment. “Let’s cool it down a bit then, yeah?”

Max’s smile is big and guileless as Chris reaches for him. A moment later, he’s on his back with Max a densely muscled weight half on top of him, simply kissing. Chris loves kissing Max, because he gets it exactly right. Just the right amount of pressure, not too wet; yielding when Chris wants him to be—which is often, but not too often. He pulls away for air and Max kisses his way down Chris’s neck, bottom teeth grazing but not marking. Chris hums with pleasure until he doesn’t.

“Ow,” he hisses, flinching a little when Max’s teeth find a tender spot at the top of his collarbone.

“Sorry.”

“It’s OK.”

“What is that? What happened?”

\----

_Chris could no longer feel his body._

_Beyond the pressure of Zach’s fingers in his ass, anyway. He could move of course—and he did, minutely—but every response to Zach’s touch was met with an adjustment by Zach that somehow brought more pleasure, more sensation. Too much. Not enough. He couldn’t decide which. He wondered if this was what a violin felt like as it was played by a true maestro: producing something beautiful, but still in service to—or at the mercy of—someone who knew you better than you knew yourself._

_Chris thought, crazily, that he must have always been like this: an extension of Zach, a tool of Zach’s. Doesn’t a tool want to perform the function for which it was created?_

_He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head of such thoughts. He felt dizzy, an uneasy twin sensation that he was both floating and falling. He let his head loll to the side, opened his eyes. Was that his hand lying on the pillow? He flexed his thumb, no more than a twitch. It was, it was his hand. It looked so strange and far away; he should move it again to be sure. But no, that was too much effort, and besides this floating-falling-flying, it brought its own pleasure. He wished it could never end, he wished he could live forever in this moment of potential._

_When would it end?_

_Zach grunted, softly, behind him. Chris could feel him breathing in his ear, the rough hair of his forearm on the soft skin of his inner thigh. It grounded him, a little disappointingly. He may have made some sound._

_“You feel like you might come?”_

_Chris considered. “No.”_

_“No?” Zach sounded amused. “My arm’s getting a little tired, are you sure?”_

_Zach adjusted the angle of his hand, applied a bit more pressure on Chris’s prostate, and Chris saw stars. “Now?”_

_Chris’s dick was leaking pre-cum like a hose, he felt like he might shoot at any second, but, “Nuh-uh.”_

_Zach kissed him on the shoulder, a whisper of sensation. “And now?”_

_Pain, sharp and bright, blossomed from Chris’s shoulder as Zach bit down, hard. Chris screamed as he came, twin sensations of pleasure and pain seeming to merge in his throat to finally break free. His body went rigid as his voice rose and the pressure of Zach’s fingers ripped pulse after pulse of hot come from him. When it was over, he fell back to the bed, vision swimming as Zach pulled his fingers away from too-sensitive flesh. He eased Chris’s still-trembling thighs back down onto the bed and cradled him in his arms haphazardly._

_Chris barely noticed—he may have passed out. The next thing he became aware of was his face buried in the damp join of Zach’s neck and shoulder, and there were tears on his own face._

_“I told you I could make you come without a hand on your prick,” Zach said, self-satisfied._

_All Chris could do was lie there._

\----

“It’s a bruise,” Chris answers, because it’s pretty obvious what it is.

“From your workout today?” Concern clouds Max’s eyes as he pushes himself off Chris to get a closer look, sure fingers prodding the flesh around it.

Chris pulls away. “No, it’s from before.”

“Looks like a bite or something, ha-ha.”

Chris’s face betrays him immediately.

“It _is_ a bite.”

“It’s over a week old.”

There is the slightest pause. “What happens on the press tour stays on the press tour, right?”

“What?” Chris searches Max’s face, looking for the hurt, the betrayal, and finds only carefully rendered neutrality. Max lowers his eyes.

“That’s the deal—I knew it from day one.”

“But—“

“But nothing. I get it. I’ve always gotten it.” He rolls off of Chris and sits up. “You and Zach have your thing, me and you have _our_ thing.”

\---

_“Goddamn it, what did you do that for?” Chris sat at the foot of the bed holding a wash cloth filled with ice to the bite mark. “It’s still swollen.”_

_Zach’s shit-eating grin was infuriating. “What, don’t tell me that wasn’t the hottest thing.”_

_“You bit me!”_

_“It was spur-of-the-moment! You didn't seem to mind it at the time.”_

_“I wouldn’t have noticed if you’d punched me in the face at the time, I hardly think that excuses it.”_

_“You’d really let me hit you?”_

_Chris shook his head, smirking despite his petulance. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Quinto? We’re flying home tomorrow.”_

_Zach caressed the back of his hand, then pressed down hard, making Chris flinch as the ice dug into bruised and tender flesh. “Just giving you something to remember me by.”_

\----

“I, uh—“ Max’s voice trails off.

“You get it,” Chris repeats.

Max looks at him without making eye contact. “I get it.”

Chris sits up and reaches for Max, gentle fingers on his jaw guide his eyes up so they’re looking at Chris. He’s so open, his eyes so vulnerable and loving. How has Chris not seen this? How has he not chosen _this_? This man who he knows loves him, who has settled for less and less of him as the Trek production ramped up and then back down, and now lately with the press tour. He’s overcome with shame, for letting it get this far, for being the kind of man who’d use someone like this. “Deal” or no deal, he doesn’t deserve Max’s patience and understanding right now, and frankly, Zach doesn’t deserve _his_.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“What?”

“You. Shouldn’t. Have to.” He leans forward and kisses Max on the corner of his mouth. “I have a phone call to make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is an image that approximates the position Zach and Chris are in—you know, [in case it helps](http://37.media.tumblr.com/c8bda2166b220850054bc710ed1d29e2/tumblr_n0fy9ep7l51s2kumao8_500.gif).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Zach are reunited at a friend's wedding. Unfortunately, significant others happen to be there too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, RC asked me for, among other things, possessive!Zach, but then the Pinto reunion at Patrick's wedding happened this weekend and I had a lot of feelings, so I guess Zach is only mildly possessive. But I hope you enjoy and don't cry as many tears as I did!

He finds Chris sitting on a fallen log, just far enough away from the festivities that the music and laughter has faded away to a quiet hum. It took more stumbling around in the woods than Zach wants to admit in order to find him, and when he does, he almost trips right over him where he’s hunched there in the dark, camouflaged in his dark suit. He must not have heard Zach crunching through the leaves, because he only looks up when Zach’s knee bumps his shoulder.

“There you are,” Zach sighs.

“Oh,” Chris says. That’s it. Just ‘oh’. No ‘hey’. No smile. He looks up at Zach, then looks away again when Zach eases himself down on the log next to him. “I just needed some air.”

“A break from all the people, you mean.” After all, the reception is outside. Fresh air is everywhere.

“Yeah.” 

Chris pushes his fingers through his hair, but it falls right back in his face. On impulse, Zach reaches out and drags his thumb across Chris’s jaw, through the wiry gray hair there. “You couldn’t have cleaned this up for your friend’s wedding, dude?”

He snorts and tilts his head away, then turns his face back toward Zach. “Where’s Miles?”

Zach gets the hint. He drops his hand back to his lap. “One of the women sitting at our table is a painter. They were having a heated conversation about brush brands when I got up.”

“That’s good,” Chris says. He doesn’t sound like he’s being sarcastic, but it’s hard to read his expression in the dark. “I’m glad he isn’t feeling too left out.”

“You are, huh?” God, Zach didn’t want to do this though. He didn’t find Chris so they could do this, but now he can’t stop. “You and Max seem, uh, happy, by the way. How come he’s not out here with you?”

Chris sighs. “Zach, can we not?”

It’s too late. If Chris didn’t want to have this conversation, he shouldn’t have brought up Miles. They could have sat here in the dark and reminisced about old times and been _happy_ , if even for the space of a few minutes. But now he’s forced to think about how Chris has been all but rubbing Max in his face all day, standing with an arm around him, laughing too loud at all his jokes, smiling at him like he hung the fucking moon. The way he used to smile at Zach. The way he sometimes still does, if he forgets himself. 

“You know, I didn’t bring him here to hurt you,” Zach says. 

Chris clenches his jaw and turns his face away. “And you haven’t.”

“Bullshit. You think I don’t know you better than that?” He reaches for Chris’s face again, gently turns his head back toward him, but he pulls back like he’s been burned when he sees the expression Chris is wearing. His eyes are glittering-wet and his mouth is too stiff at the corners, a telltale sign that he’s holding back tears. 

“Zach, please,” he says quietly.

Zach can’t help the pained sound that comes out of his mouth. He grips the back of Chris’s neck and pulls him closer, until their foreheads are resting together and their mingled breath is warming his face. 

“So you think _I’m_ trying to hurt _you_?” Chris whispers. It sounds like it pains him, like a whisper is all he has energy for.

Zach doesn’t know what to think anymore. He doesn’t know how things got to this point. It feels like one minute he and Chris were on the same page about things, and the next minute Chris was going and falling in love with _someone else_. Well, Zach assumes it’s love. It sure looks like love. And fuck Zach for thinking it, but he can’t handle the thought of Chris loving anyone else—he just _can’t_.

“You know what I’ve been thinking all day?” Chris continues, his eyes falling shut. “I see how happy Patrick and Troian are and I can’t help but think, it should have been—”

Zach kisses him to shut him up, because if Chris says those words, he can never take them back, and it’ll wreck them both. They were never going to end up here, proclaiming their love to friends and family. Not ever. So Zach tilts his head and brushes his lips across Chris and sighs in relief, both because of how good it feels and because it makes Chris stop talking.

“Zach.” Chris almost chokes on the word. He takes Zach’s face in both of his hands and kisses him again, so gently it hurts. “I miss you, you know.”

Zach misses him too. That’s the hardest part of all of this, of hanging out with all their old friends and thinking of the way things used to be and knowing they can never go back there. No matter how Zach looks at it, he can’t see a way to go back.

All he can think to do is put his hand on Chris’s thigh, run it up his inseam to check if he can still make him feel good in _this_ way. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for an opportunity this weekend to remind Chris how good they can be together, and this is the only safe way, the way they can feel how they feel for each other without looking at it straight on. But he only gets a half second to savor how familiar Chris feels, straining hot and hard against the fabric of his pants and against Zach’s hand where it molds around him, before Chris lets out a grunt and shoves him away, panting and swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“No. I told you, that last time was the _last time_.”

For a long moment, Zach is too stunned to move or speak. He grips his own thighs and stares at Chris’s face, waiting for him to crumple and take it all back. But he doesn’t. He stares down at his feet, his tongue running nervously over his lips.

“You should go,” he says at least, looking up at Zach, “before someone finds us.”

Zach gets to his feet, because what else can he do? His heart is pounding in his chest, and his hands are clenched so hard at his sides that the bones creak and ache. But what choice does he have, if Chris doesn’t want him here?

“Are you sure?” he rasps. He waits for Chris’s eyes to climb up his body, his neck craning back so he can look Zach in the eye. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to hurt me?”

But like a coward, he doesn’t wait around to hear Chris’s answer.


End file.
